


Mystical

by AndreaLyn



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Love Potion/Spell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets surrounding mystical/crackish events.</p><p>Youth:  A second youth is a blessing for those around the blessed.<br/>Love Spell: Lancelot finds out he's more than a bit wanted.<br/>Haunted: Tristan enjoys his newfound state.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The giggling was abnormal, especially coming from  _him_. “I’d no idea he was such a happy child,” Gawain grumbled as he ran past them after the small blur of brown curls and pale skin, wearing the smallest tunic they could find. Tristan smirked and leaned back against the post. In the distance, Gawain finally caught up to Galahad – such as he was, with the strange and odd curse upon him, reverted back to his previous form, that of a four-year-old in all his thin, exuberant,  _cute_  glory – and picked him up, resulting in a loud squeal as Gawain held him upside down and carried him back over. Galahad blinked up at them, eyes impossibly wide, and Arthur smiled and gave his hair a ruffle.  
  
“I wan’ go on the horsies,” Galahad demanded petulantly.   
  
Bors smirked. “Same disposition.”   
  
Galahad writhed and wriggled in Gawain’s grasp until Gawain put him down, large hands pinning his small form to the ground with light tickling movements around the stomach, laughter in barks and wild pitches, and most important to Gawain,  _happy_. Galahad bit down on his lip, giggling, before he threw his arms around Gawain’s neck and hoisted himself up off the ground as Gawain stood. Gawain adjusted quickly, carrying Galahad on his hip.  
  
“You’re taking him riding, aren’t you?” Lancelot groaned, even as Galahad curled in closer to Gawain’s side and tugged on the hem of his shirt.  
  
Gawain grinned, poking Galahad on the nose. “Maybe this time, he won’t bitch about it.”  
  
**  
  


The knock on the door was small and didn’t stop. Lancelot grumbled, getting up amidst the flashes of lightning and wrapped his cloak around himself to the sounds of thunder rumbling over the land. Arthur groaned in bed, barely waking up at the sound and Lancelot was ready to snap at whoever it was. He’d even snapped the door open and snarled at…  
  
…at thin air.  
  
“Lancelot,” a broken, tiny voice cried from his feet, running past him and crawling into bed.   
  
The tiny blur let out a loud shriek and a moan of a whimper when another bolt of thunder crashed. Lancelot sighed. Galahad. The brat turned four-year-old. And he was in Lancelot’s spot, rocking back and forth and clapping his hands over his ears. Arthur seemed to wake up at that, exchanging glances with Lancelot, who merely rolled his eyes at the whole situation.   
  
“Arthur, m’scared,” Galahad pleaded in a tiny whisper, letting out a pained moan when another flash of lightning lit the sky. He turned and burrowed into Arthur’s chest, a mess of frizzy curls attached to a tunic with bare feet was all Lancelot saw.   
  
And it was  _in_  his  _spot_.   
  
Arthur looked up at Lancelot, giving him a sigh and a mouthed, ‘I’m Sorry,’ before wrapping his arms around Galahad and soothing him quietly, stroking at his curls and letting him rock into Arthur even as the sky lit up with flashes of light as bright as day and deafening thunder.   
  
Lancelot sighed and grabbed a chair, curling up in it as best as he could. “Next time,” Lancelot snorted, “the brat goes to Gawain.”  
  
Galahad sniffed. “G’wain wasn’t there,” he said quietly.  
  
“No,” Gawain’s voice came from the door. Lancelot turned to find him leaning there. Galahad turned in Arthur’s grasp, eyes wide and his lower lip trembling. “I was in my spot in your bed. Come here, Galahad,” he beckoned, smiling warmly as Galahad sprinted from Arthur’s grasp and jumped into Gawain’s arms, curling up immediately and pressing his face into Gawain’s chest. “You scared, pup?”  
  
Galahad just nodded.   
  
“Come on, let’s go bug Tristan,” Gawain whispered, shifting until Galahad was on his hip. “Bet you he’ll make the storm go away.”  
  
And they left.  
  
Lancelot beamed. His spot was free again.


	2. Love Spell

“Come, Lancelot.”

“Obviously, you know we’re far more than capable physically…”

Lancelot stumbled into Galahad’s room, panting as he pressed his back to the door. Galahad stood in his cloak, as though prepared to leave. Lancelot heaved and bent over, out of breath, barely noticing. “Tristan is insane,” Lancelot said simply, looking up to catch Galahad’s gaze, “and Gawain too. What are you doing, withholding sex from him?” Galahad only smirked and stepped forward, the cloak opening and revealing a strip of bare thigh. Lancelot swallowed hard. “Galahad…?”

“Yes?”

“What are you wearing under your cloak?”

Galahad grinned mischievously. “It’s a present.” He took Lancelot’s index finger into his mouth and sucked, using his tongue like a professional. “Unwrap me?” he whispered. Lancelot stared in horror, fumbling to escape the room and darting out of Galahad’s reach, sprinting for his own quarters and slamming the door shut behind him, shifting and grabbing a chair to barricade the door. In the distance, Vanora’s voice announced, “I saw him run this way!”

Lancelot exhaled and relaxed…until he saw Arthur relaxing on his cot.

“Oh no,” Lancelot whispered, heart in his throat. Arthur grinned and beckoned Lancelot closer with a simple nod of his head. “Not you too.”

“Do I need a reason to want to bed you?” Arthur frowned. The pounding on Lancelot’s door grew louder and louder as Lancelot sighed in relief and fell onto the cot and into Arthur’s waiting embrace. “I’m simply jealous that everyone else seems to have discovered my secret.”


	3. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tristan enjoys this new existence over his old one. 
> 
> Galahad/Gawain & Arthur/Guinevere in this chapter.

He enjoyed his new form beyond pleasure, bliss, ecstasy, and beyond human capability for enjoying things. Walls became nothing to him and shadows became his best friend. He slipped in and out of them with ease and grace, leaning how to control the cold draft that accompanied him so that the others wouldn’t notice when he was peering in on them with sunken, ghost eyes and his pale, floating form that could only be seen in direct light and even then, he could disappear so it would seem a trick of the light.

Truth be told, Tristan enjoyed being a ghost. It made scouting and spying infinitely easier. In fact, he was learning all sorts of new, wonderful things. 

“I don’t know,” Galahad was confessing somewhere in a whisper – echoing. Everything echoed now. “It’s the strangest sensation all down my back, Gawain, I…” Tristan raised his eyebrows with intrigue as Galahad’s words were interrupted by a moan. He slipped through three walls and into Galahad’s quarters to find Gawain’s hair messily arranged between Galahad’s spread thighs. “It’s a…a chill down my back…like someone is watching.”

“Who could be watching?” Gawain murmured, his words muffled. 

Tristan grinned, arranging himself against the wall, tilting his head until he could see from a perfect angle. Watching had never given him more amusement. Just the other night, he’d witnessed Arthur in Guinevere’s hold, actually pleading to her. Before that, he’d caught Galahad against the wall of the stables, stroking himself and sweating like a perfect portrait.

“I swear I heard…G-Gawain, ah,” Galahad let out a gasp. “I heard Tristan’s laughter while I was doing…m-my chores, in the stables the other day.”

Tristan shook his head. This was worth giving himself up. 

“If that’s what you did during chores, Galahad, it’s a wonder we ever got anything done.”


End file.
